Page 119 of Three of a Kind

He moves to stand, but Stacia climbs out of Bless’s lap. “I’ve got it.”

Bless pushes herself out of the chair and follows.

My head tilts as I appraise the newcomers. The tall one, who could likely pass for Soren’s brother, is Kostov. The shorter one, with a slightly thicker build, is Aleks.

Kostov and Soren speak in Russian for so long that I start to get bored.

Ranger looks mildly annoyed.

But Bless looks like the top of her head might pop off as she glances between the two men.

“How many guards do you expect?” Kostov finally asks, glancing around the room, like he’s trying to establish who else might be in charge.

Bless sighs. “I can’t give you an exact figure. Avan normally has close to twenty men on duty at any given time, but most of those are exterior guards. He generally doesn’t keep more than four or five inside the house.”

“And the Manzo family?” Kostov asks. His accent is much thicker than Soren’s, and I blink like a fool for several long seconds as I try to decipher what he just said.

“They brought eight men in two SUVs to the wedding rehearsal,” Stacia says, shrugging. “Four went in, four stood around, keeping guard near the SUVs.”

Locke scoffs. “They wouldn’t let you inside to watch?”

Stacia laughs, swiping her hair over her shoulder. “They’d be more likely to invite the dogs in than they would be to welcome me inside. It’s fine. It gave me the perfect opportunity to appraise the guards outside.”

“Safe estimate, I’d say thirty or forty guards and thirty well-armed guests.” Bless frowns at Kostov.

Kostov nods, but his eyes don’t move from Stacia.

It goes on for so long, I start to feel mildly uncomfortable. Can’t he smell that she’s already bonded?

The look on Bless’s face turns to an impressive glare.

Soren says something in Russian at the same time Stacia says, “Do I have something on my face?”

Kostov cuts his eyes to Soren, replying in Russian. He turns back to Stacia and bends at the waist, giving her a weird-as-fuck bow. “We’ll ensure their disrespect to you does not go unpunished.” He stumbles closer, gripping her shoulders and scenting her neck as she stands, frozen. “You smell like mine, darling,” he growls in his thick accent.

“I did not see that coming,” Locke sputters.

“Well, that’s too fucking bad.” Bless steps around to stand at Stacia’s side. “She’s mine.”

Aleks, the shorter of the two men, stretches out tattooed fingers, grabbing the bottom of Bless’s hair and sniffing now that she’s within reach.

His eyes widen as he says something in Russian.

Kostov nods, replying.

“This is tedious,” Ranger mutters. “I’m going to call my wife.” With that, he shoves himself off the couch, steps around the still-talking Russians, and aims for the stairs.

“I will be in communication with Soren to facilitate a meeting place and final planning,” Kostov says in English. He studies Stacia carefully and smiles. “The four of us can discuss this after we end our mutual adversary.” He bows again before he and Aleks leave the same way they came in.

“Discuss what?” Stacia asks with wide eyes.

The front door opens and closes, and Bless turns to glare at Soren. “How angry will Ivanov be if I murder his new successor?”

Soren simply scoffs. “I would not recommend you take that course of action. I am also going to call my wife.” He stomps off while Bless and Stacia talk in voices too low for me to pick up.

My eyes meet Maverick’s, and he smirks.

“Our soon-to-be wife is already here.” He laughs. “Let’s go check on her.”

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